The Morning People (more fragments) REWRITTEN

            The SWAT team was still around him, twenty-seven men all told. (and women, too, the AUSC was egalitarian ). All in combat gear, and heavily armed. They'd taken all his knives and both handguns, his rifle, and his hunting bow. He never realized how many weapons of death he carried, until now, seeing them all heaped up on that sterile white table. Along with his various tools, Gideons New Testament, and Mary's crucifix, and a good deal of his clothes.
        Blank staring expressions greeted him over a dozen muzzle points, as if they expected him to do some sort of back flip and produce a machine gun out of his bare arm. A woman wearing white gloves picked up his holy water bottle with a pair of tongs. It was an ex-military canteen with a cross scratched on it for differentiation from the other canteen. He'd drunk a whole bottle of it one night by mistake. (Mary had thought it probably did him good.)
    The tongs placed it securely in a grey bin, marked LABORATORY: HAZARDOUS MATERIALS. They would probably take it to the lab and test for chemical weapons. His tinderbox kit and home-made first aid ointments (some doubtful, from Eric--who swore that vinegar, lard, and low dose rat-poison could cure fever, chills, and infections) went into the a testing bin as well.  The woman held the remains of the beef jerky aloft with the tongs, staring at it as if it were human flesh, finally it too went into its own bin. Something in him cringed as she picked Mary's crucifix. Nope, no hidden compartments for anthrax or nerve gas, it went back into the pile. 
     She picked up the tattered King James Gideon Bible, and a holy card with a fetus' picture slid out and landed on the table, loud in the silence of the blank stares. Then suddenly she turned to look at him, even her look was guarded, but their eyes locked. She was young, perhaps 25. Intelligent. He could read that in her eyes. And a believer in a vision bigger than herself.
    She looked away, having read all she wanted, and cast one more glance over the weapons and the Bible, imperceptibly shuddered, and disappeared down the hall with the gray boxes.

        A moment later the further doors opened to a hall. Eight of them marched him down. They were passing through offices, probably for pretty high-up officials by the look of the black granite floors. The walls were covered in diplomas and formal portraits. Some walls had floor length mirrors on them. This was psychological warfare, he knew. There was them, standing at attention, in uniform, and smiling in their official portraits with the flag behind them, with their degrees and medals of honor on the walls. Then there were the guards surrounding you, good-looking, tall (were all of them over 6 feet?) and smartly uniformed, effortlessly making quick time, their boots gleaming off the polished floors. And then there was you. Your head only coming up to their shoulders, hands cuffed behind your back, bare feet scuttling to keep up the pace---small and deranged and scruffy in a dirty undershirt and shorts. (at least they let you keep that, they had confiscated his ratty jeans, emptying every real and decorative pocket, collecting every bit of lint and scrap-paper. They'd been very interested in his attempts at poetry. Much more so, in fact, than any of his friends. Mary said the meter was terrible.  Probably deciphering them for terrorist plots right now).
        They went through multiple doors, security locked, gliding open as the head guard slid in the passcodes. Finally,  a plain unmarked wooden door. It opened, the security cameras serving as their knock.
    He was led in. The guards drew back to the door. President Gray stood up at a desk, Commander Foster was by his right. Around them were seated half-a-dozen various persons. The commander nodded to the guards, and they withdrew. Ariel could see the shadows by the pillars flicker, indicating the presence of select guards posted behind them. Hidden, in the case he did produce a machine gun from his bare arm.
         “Ariel Sheldon. We know you. We know what you've been up to after--leaving the army ”
 Ariel looked past him, directly at Commander Foster
        “Sir, I think you know that I know, that this is a waste of your time.”
 President Dell cleared his throat. Ariel kept his eyes locked on Foster. The President continued.
       “We know you are an...influential...man, in your own circle. We know after your discharge,  you organized a group of--right wing radicals. Paramilitary.  You frequently sneak through this city, spread misinformation, interfere with military and civilian operations, harass citizens. We know what you believe, your extremist views and--fascist dreams for society.0000000000  Recently, it has come to our attention that you've crossed the line into domestic terrorism. We know that you have been under a lot of emotional pressure, and have had psychiatric struggles...."
Ari looked at Commander Foster. He would not meet his eyes.
        "....For the safety of our civilians, for our society, for---"
        “Sir, to be frank, you know you would much rather have me out there, then in here.” Here, I am a symbolic threat to you, a right-wing radical. The more attention you give me, the more you say my backwards ideas are still alive. I hurt your narrative. Unless I (I become monster in the dark, help your narrative)
        “Out there, my band of crazy radicals stands between this city, and what's out there. ” He finally caught Commander Foster's eyes, and held them.
        “Sir, you know what these people don't, You know what stalks in the darkness around this city. ” Yes, Commander, you know the full extent of what it is.
         “If you are referring to the rumors of the so called Gi-hirion invasion , You  insult our country's men and women serving in the military, special operations, and law enforcement----"
        He kept looking at Foster, interrupting..
       “I'm simply stating sir, that you would rather have us out there.”  You know you need us crazies to do it. Because you know your own sane men can't.
The President looked offended.
        “If you are claiming  it is some sort of overriding external threat, we are in no way ---”
Ari only kept his eyes locked on Commander Foster. The President looked at the Commander's face, and fell suddenly silent.
       “Mr. President, it keeps us busy. Keeps us extremists at the extremes, so to speak. And it puts one more layer between it, and our excellent military. As that stands, I think it would be in your best interest to let me go. You can deal with my band of crazies after --that---is dealt with. And, Sir, I do plea innocent to your charge of terrorism .”
 ****

 Ariel stared at the fluorescent light illuminating the ceiling tiles of his little cell. It was a prime number in one direction: 179.Mary had a thing for Prime numbers. He counted the tiles in the other, 171. That was prime too. No, it wasn't! It divisible by 3. And 9, which was three threes. A fractal. Mary would have liked that too. He could see her in that over-sized camo jacket, perched in the branches of the tree above their stake out, braid swinging down her back, eyes alight, speaking on irreducible numbers and irreducible logic cycles and recursion, all in an excited whisper.  He had tried to shut her up, in case they were overheard. She was always talking like that. Another time, it would be about some prayer cycle she'd invented that had something to do with primes...he tried, but he couldn't recall the details now. It was something about the number 3, and confession...
    He shut his eyes, scraping the vague recesses of his memory. He had been escorted to this little cell. He knew they were arguing about what to do with him. He knew Foster knew that they needed him. But he didn't know how much influence Foster had with Gray. And Foster might be gone. There were rumors they were going to replace him with a younger, more visionary commander.     Now all he had to do was wait. So he was waiting.
    There, it was coming back now. The rough bark branches, her low whisper, the night wind in his face... Holy Trinity, I do confess, having sinned with my body, mind, and soul--- The metal door clanged open. He jumped to his feet, heart pounding. A nurse stood, four armed guards around her. She was carrying plastic bags. He had met 'interrogation' techniques before, but nothing beyond a simple  rubber truncheons and ego-demolitions. And then there were those rumors about those new drugs. His stomach twisted cold, he swallowed, God knowshow he would hold up in that. Ari quickly looked at them, and caught a glimpse of ratty jeans. Relief washed over him. Foster had won.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               *******(Original) The SWAT team was still around him, twenty-seven men all told. (and women, too, the AUSC was open-minded). All in combat gear, and heavily armed. They'd taken all his knives and both handguns, his rifle, and his hunting bow. He's never realized how many weapons of death he carried, till seeing them all heaped up on that sterile white table. Along with his various tools, Gideons New Testament, and Mary's crucifix, and a good deal of his clothes.
        Blank staring expressions greeted him over a dozen muzzle points, as if they expected him to do some sort of back flip and produce a machine gun out of his bare arm. A woman in white gloves picked up his holy water bottle with tongs. It was an ex-military canteen with a cross scratched on it for differentiation from the other canteen. He'd drunk a whole bottle of it one night by mistake. (Mary had thought it probably did him good.) The tongs placed it securely in a grey bin for testing for chemical weapons. His tinderbox kit and home-made first aid ointments (some doubtful, from Eric who swore that low dose rat-poison could cure infections) went into the a testing bin as well. She stared at the remains of the beef jerky as if it were human flesh, until it too went into its own bin. Something in him cringed as she picked Mary's crucifix. No hidden compartments for anthrax or nerve gas, it went back into the pile.  When she picked up the tattered King James Gideon Bible, a holy card with a fetus' picture slid out and landed on the table, loud in the silence of blank staring eyes. She turned to look at him, even her look was guarded, but their eyes locked. She was young, perhaps 25. Intelligent. He could read that in her eyes. And a believer in a vision bigger then herself. She looked away, having read all she wanted, and cast one more glance over the weapons and the Bible, imperceptibly shuddered, and disappeared down the hall with the gray boxes.
        A moment later the further doors opened to a hall. Eight of them marched him down. They were passing through offices, probably for pretty high up officials by the look of the black granite floors. The walls were covered in diplomas and formal portraits. Some walls had floor length mirrors on them. This was psychological warfare, he knew. There was them, standing at attention, in uniform, and smiling in their official portraits with the flag behind them, with their degrees and medals of honor on the walls. Then there were the guards surrounding you, good-looking, tall (were all of them over 6 feet?) and smartly uniformed, effortlessly making quick time, their boots gleaming off the polished floors. And then there was you. Your head only coming up to their shoulders, hands cuffed behind your back, bare feet scuttling to keep up the pace---small and deranged and scruffy in a dirty undershirt and shorts. (at least they let you keep that, they had confiscated his ratty jeans, emptying every real and decorative pocket, collecting every bit of pocket lint and scrap of paper. They'd been very interested in his attempts at poetry. Probably deciphering them for terrorist plots right now).

        They went through multiple doors, security locked, gliding open as the head guard slid in the passcodes. They finally they made it to a plain unmarked wooden door. It opened, the security cameras serving as their knock. He was led in. The guards drew back to the door. President Gray stood up at a desk, Commander Foster was by his right. Around them were seated half a dozen various persons. The commander nodded to the guards, and they withdrew. Ariel could see the shadows by the pillars tremble, of select guards posted there. Hidden, in the case he did produce a machine gun from his bare arm.
         “Ariel Sheldon. We know you. We know what you've been up to after leaving the army ”
 Ariel looked past him, directly at Commander Foster
        “Sir, I think you know that I know, that this is a waste of your time.”
 President Dell cleared his throat. Ariel kept his eyes locked on Foster. The President continued.
       “We know you are an influential man, in your own circle. We know after your discharge, that you organized a group of right wing radicals as paramilitary group. That you frequently sneak through this city, spreading misinformation, interfering with our military and civilian operations, harassing citizens. We know what you believe, your extreme regressive views and fascist dreams for society. But recently, it has come to our attention that you've crossed the line into domestic terrorism. However, we know that you have been under a lot of emotional pressure, and have had psychiatric struggles...."
Ari looked at Commander Foster. He would not meet his eyes. 
        "....For the safety of our civilians, for our society, for---"
        “Sir, to be frank, you know you would much rather have me out there, then in here.” Here, I am a symbolic threat to you, a right wing radical. The more attention you give me, the more you say my backwards ideas are still alive. I hurt your narrative. Unless you've so poisoned them against me, that I help it....
        “Out there, my band of crazy radicals stands between this city, and what's out there. ” He finally caught Commander Foster's eyes, and held them.
        “Sir, you know what these people don't, You know what stalks in the darkness around this city. ” Yes, Commander, you know the full extent of what it is. 
         “If you are referring to the rumors of the so called Gi-hirion invasion , and implying an insult to our country's men and women serving in the military, special operations, and law enforcement----"
        He kept looking at Foster, and spoke.
       “I'm simply stating sir, that you would rather have us out there.”  You know you need us crazies to do it. Because you know your own sane soldiers can't.
The President looked offended.
        “If you are claiming this as some sort of overriding external threat, we are in no way ---”
Ari only kept his eyes locked on Commander Foster. The President looked at the Commander's face, and fell suddenly silent.
       “Mr. President, it keeps us busy. Keeps us extremists at the extremes, so to speak. And it puts one more layer between it, and our excellent military. As that stands, I think it would be in your best interest to let me go. You want to wait to deal with my band of crazies until after --that---is dealt with. And, Sir, I do plea innocent to your charge of terrorism .”

 **** 

 Ariel stared at the fluorescent light illuminating the ceiling tiles of his little cell. It was a prime number in one direction 179. He remembered how Mary had a thing for Prime numbers. He counted the tiles in the other, 171. That was prime too. No, it wasn't! It divisible by 3. And 9, which was three threes. A fractal. Mary would have liked that too. He could see her in that over-sized camo jacket, perched in the branches of the tree above their stake out, braid swinging down her back, her eyes alight, speaking on irreducible numbers and irreducible logic cycles and recursion, in an excited whisper. And he remembered how he tried to shut her up in case they were overheard. She'd had been explaining some prayer cycle she'd invented that had something to do with primes, but he couldn't remember what. He wished he remembered it now, something about the number 3, and confession. He shut his eyes, scraping the vague recesses of his memory. He had been escorted to this little cell. He knew they were arguing about what to do with him. He knew Foster knew that they needed him. But he didn't know how much influence Foster had with the President. There were rumors they were going to replace him with a younger, more visionary, commander. Now all he had to do was wait. So he was waiting.  
Holy Trinity, I do confess, having sinned with my body, mind, and soul--- The metal door clanged open. He jumped to his feet, heart pounding. A nurse stood, four armed guards around her. She was carrying plastic bags. He had met 'interrogation' techniques before, but nothing beyond a simple beating and ego-assassination techniques. And then there were those rumors about those new drugs. He didn't know how he would hold up. Ari quickly looked at them, and saw a glimpse of ratty jeans. Relief washed over him. Foster had won. 

 ****

Thoughts on Starcraft 2: Wings of Liberty (SPOILERS, so do not read if you ever are going to play it, bc its worth it.)

            So when Josh played Star Craft 1 and it pulled me in. True, I didn't at first like Raynor that much, even though he was a sheriff he gave off a little of the 'bad boy' and 'not respecting authority' vibe, (which I found annoying). But I liked his actions. I liked how his MO was saving the civilians, so he went against his (corrupt, bureaucratic) authorities, and kind of accidentally joined the rebels, so he could save his people. Then he falls in love with a cute-bantering-intelligent special ops girl over a comm link, who knows how he feels because she's kinda telapathic (insert Hannah's snarky comments to Josh about how how this is tailored to shy/nerdy teenage boys here). They work together, and are friends. And then...she is given a stupid order. And he (stuck somewhere else) is trying to persuade her, over the commlink, not to obey it. And she tells him that she's fine, thank you, and makes some witty comment about how he shouldn't try his (sexist?) knight in shining armour routine here.  Then she gets betrayed and taken by the Zerg, given up for dead. And he's torn apart. And then he has a dream, that she's asking him to come back to the planet that she died, that she's still alive. So he goes, and finds she's been 'infested'/zombie-fied in a way/zergified. Its like finding your loved one possessed. (exactly in fact). And he swears (though to me it sounded like a prayer) 'Mother of God, Kerrigan, what have they done to you?') And she answers him with the possessed self, telling him she's powerful now etc... And (as he is surrounded) he says (with irony? They never dated, and Kerrigan is the kind of independent women who I don't think likes being called darlin') 'So what are you going to do darlin, kill me?'  But there is enough left in her that she lets him go. Ok, so it was sad. He is betrayed by the Terrans (leaders anyway, who are complete skunks playing with the lives of their people), he cares about the Terran civilians, he HATES the invading killing Zerg (but loves a Zerg Captain e.g. Kerrigan), so he ends up siding with splinter faction of the alien Protoss who fight the Zerg, try not to kill the humans (unlike the main faction of the Protoss) and try to defend their homeplanet. He's fighting against Kerrigan, against the Terrans, but because he loves civilians, because he cares. (Now that wouldn't be so bad, its sad. But the exile defending the people who hate him thing) He's an exile with the exiled Protoss faction, who like him, have gotten into trouble for trying to protect (or in the Protoss' case, not purge) the Terrans. So he's lost his people, the girl he likes, but at least he has a cause, and fellow (alien) exiles to share it with.                                                               Then Josh played Brood War, and it about busted my heart.  Due to being caught between 2 evils, Raynor has to pick the lesser of 2 evils to form a shifting alliance with, trying to save what is precious. (There was so many betrayals, spies, and levels of double-triple spy and intrigue it felt like a strategic version of a soap opera. I don't think this story line was as well written) But even worse Kerrigan's mind is freed from the overmind, but she acts like the devil. She wants revenge, wants power. She brutally gets on top, using (and killing) Protoss in a pretended repentance. Using (and killing his best friend) Raynor in more pretended good will. She knew (even though he was suspicious) that deep down, not even admitted to himself, that he's hoping she can change. After she uses them, and kills Raynor's (fellow exiled) Protoss buddy, Raynor gets very angry, and promises her he is going to kill her. (This feels a lot less soap opera-y that it sounds. Its not like a lovers fight, since they were never lovers, just friends. And its more of an admission that he thinks there isn't much 'Sarah' left, mostly a ruthless 'Queen of Blades' that uses the Sarah part to get power). So I hated Brood War. All my hope of Kerrigan repenting was destroyed. She faked repentance to get what she wanted, she used and killed people using their hope/pity, she ruthlessly got to the top, she delighted in other peoples suffering. I said the only next thing for her to do was build a little hell to torture people. So Kerrigan was turning into the devil, and Jim just lost his exile Protoss buddy, AND is watching the girl he likes get worse, AND the Terran gov't are still run by ever-increasingly-evil creeps, AND not only is the Protoss homeworld destroyed, the exile colony is ripped apart by Kerrigan's power plays, AND there is introduced an abomination of Zerg-Protoss genetic experiment. I was mad. And sad.                                                                                                            
            Then Josh got Star Craft 2, Wings of Liberty. Well, the tag line on the booklet got to me
"Jim Raynor has led a resistance movement known as Raynors Raiders against the spreading power of the dominion but over the years it has been a losing battle. Arcturus Mengsk[h-the old rebel leader who betrayed Kerrigan to the Zerg, and became the govt] has used his greatest weapons--the media and propaganda to maginalize Raynor's efforts. Now Raynor seems to be losing faith, drinking heavily and haunted by the ghosts of his past. Those who know Jim Raynor best have been saying that there is one part of him that won't rest until Sarah Kerrigan is dead... ...and another part of him that refuses to let her go." 
         Its a truth always on the scaffold, wrong always on the throne. The rebels that really just cared about power, and that see people as things to be used, are in power. The guy that wants to defend civilians ends up a marginalized despised-by-the-people criminal/exile. And the media does its part. (hmmmmm this reminds me of something...) And he's losing faith, but still kinda, almost not admitted to himself, still hopes. As the game starts, they do a little explaining to Raynor's slight bad-boy tone and yet steel spine from Star Craft 1. They imply Raynor had a quasi-criminal past, and a criminal buddy took the fall for him. Then he because a sheriff for backwater town (tough image), but really really loved defending the people. (There's a child's card thanking Sheriff Raynor in scrawled crayons, and his old sheriff badge, along with a photo of Sarah Kerrigan from the old days, pinned up against the wall.) It seems he perhaps had a rough childhood, but at his first exposure to defending people and being on the side of justice and truth he really loved it.                                                                                                                          (Convict buddy 'How did you (with rough past) become sherriff?'  Raynor says something like '(Head of law enforcement) was counting on his rough image. then says 'When I was sheriff, I never had to kill anybody (in this sort of awe/happy way)' convict 'must not have been fun' Raynor is silent.) So his convict buddy Finley comes out, still all convict-y, (with a truly awful obscene pin up girl type of image painted on to his armor). Raynor is kind to him, because they were old friends and Finley took the fall for him. But Raynor is different than Finley. He carries Sarah's picture of her face, so full of life and personhood, while Finley reduces women to hormone highs in his picture. (I still do not know what that creepy holograph was doing in the bar on the Hyperion. I'm pretty sure Raynor wouldn't put there. I think it was there to be a 'bar', and to frame over Finley's shoulder when he berates Raynor for not having one night stands, when there's so many 'missed opportunities. Raynor shrugs him off).  And when Finley proposes they hunker down throughout a Zerg invasion, and look out for themselves, Raynor fights with him, and says no, they will do what they can to save people. Finley is the essence of the criminal mind, rules/society don't matter, its all about what you can get out of it (people, situations). Its all about him, and his desires. Raynor is the essence of heroism, its all about the other people, he sacrifices so much, to save the civilians. Its all spoken in his badge, the kids's card, and the picture of his dead loved one on the wall. (even if he came from a rough childhood, this is what matters to him). Then there's Horner, the clean cut, good kid, law and justice. He's the foil to Finley, Raynor's other friend. But he's very young, 20s-ish. He despises Finley, but respects Raynor (even though Raynor looks more like Finley, old tattoos and all, his soul isn't. He's self-sacrificial, not boiling down all other humans and society to whatever he can get out of it). I love how they are friends (H: be careful R: Careful is my middle name H: I thought it was Eugene R: Shutup, James)
           But Raynor is falling apart. His cause seems to be going no where (he needs funds, people, etc), Kerrigan looks gone evil forever, his Protoss buddies are long gone. He keeps drinking, but still tries to do what he can, collect research things for a group willing to pay him, so he can get money to fund his efforts. Its not like he's unsuccessful. He is able to save a bunch of civilians abandoned by the govt, and relocate them to safety.  And (while drinking by himself) he gets a vision of his Protoss buddy, who brings him a cryptic message that only Kerrigan can save the world. He keeps drinking. Horner finds him drunk (he's dreaming about Kerrigan being betrayed) and tells him that "What happened to Kerrigan, its not your fault" "Which part, her being left behind, or her killing 9 billion people?"                                   
                                                        
  You know the things she has done, the people she has killed, really really bothers him. They aren't just statistics to him. But he still cares about her, even when though what she is doing tears him up. Then Horner throws him his badge, and says they are counting on him. Jim holds his badge, staring at it. Its what he does, trying to save civilians.
         Then comes the hope, the slimmest chance, yet untested, that they may be able to unzergify her. But he will have to ally himself with the son of his nemesis, who is probably using him (sitting safely up on high, watching the invasion via telecom), and will have to fight his way into hell, probably die, all just to try it out.
        And he's got other options. He meets a girl, very much like the pre-zerged Kerrigan, a ninja sort, extremely cute with that kind of cute bantering personality (though she's kinda deadly...). And then there's also the doctor, an intelligent girl with a good heart, who is compassionate,who respects him ("you're a good man, Jim Raynor") who he could marry and start over fresh, helping her save/govern her colony. (This scene, he does a marvelous job of diffusing romantic tension. Starts to smoke and says 'guys like me don't get a second chance. We just have to finish what we started).  So there's other chances for him to marry a cute, cute-personality, intelligent, NORMAL girl with an actual chance at happiness. Kerrigan is destroyed, she's lost her mind, her cute personality, her body (completely destroyed by zerg infestation), and one wonders, her soul? (she's become so evil). When he embarks on the crazy mission, its not like he's (as Horner accuses him) 'risking all our lives just to get your girlfriend back'  (He gives his crew a choice to join him or not) But its not like its about him getting her back. Her mind and body and all the 'perks' everything cute and nice about her is gone. And he will most probably die. Its about saving her soul. He's trying to save the only thing that may be left, her soul, because he loves her soul. With all the perks of romance gone, with all that makes us attracted to someone stripped away (and offered in other people) he chooses to fight his way into hell, in the sliver of a chance it will save the world, and, Kerrigan's soul. And he's willing to be the pawn of Mengsk (who will most probably turn on him once he does it) for that.
           And he goes. He fights his way into hell and loses so much, death left and right. And he does it. And he goes into the cave where she is, and sees her lying on the ground. (Back when Zarratul confronts zergified Kerrigan, she is powerful, evil, even kinda armor-like 'sexy' in that tough inhuman way (the spine high heels), she is 'bring on the end, we'll all die anyway' despair and power.) But now she is  almost dead, so weary, no armor, no power, weak, vulnerable, human, naked like a baby (her feet are human again, not shod with spines), like a second birth. And so weary, so helpless (not the powerful queen of blades). And he calls her name, "Sarah". And she's helpless, and almost gets shot, just lying there, too tired to move away from the bullet sightings (perhaps her human self not that defensive from death, after all she's been through) And has to kill Finley to stop him from killing her for his freedom. And he picks her up and carries her out into the light, she calls his name so tired and confused "Jim?" And he answers "Its ok, I've gotcha" and keeps walking into the light. And she looks so so so tired. And he looks at her face, she looks at his, and he looks up and out toward the light, carrying her toward the light. And then just finally able to rest, trustingly falls asleep. And he's carrying her out into the light, you see her bare feet flopping,  flesh (not with spine high heels armor), vulnerable, human.(to me she didn't look attractive, just so human and so so tired) And my heart was so full. It felt like, against all the odds, he fought through hell, and as the fleets burned above them, traitors all around him, intrigue and spies and power plays an d crashing worlds all around him, and yet, them two, she was saved. Against all the odds. It was like, there is a God. There is a God who fights for Raynor even in all the political gods and using people and mess, out on the burning hills, under a burning sky with fighting airships, there she is , exhausted so so tired, and he, so so so so tired (finley dead etc), but she is saved.
        And you know everything is not hunkydory, that everything is such a mess and crazy with evil govt waiting for him, but  it is more then you ever hoped. The biggest, most impossible thing has happened, and the layers of spies and crashing empires and burning ships and all, are just cleaning up, are just aftermath. The biggest impossible thing has happened. And you feel like, there is a God. A God who fights for Jim, who gives Jim this huge honor that he could sacrifice that he could say 'its ok, I've gotcha' after so much suffering. (I remember wondering if that is how Jesus felt when he saved us.) It was better then I ever hoped for. I was so happy. So happy. (I guess it is the eucatastrophe Tolkien talked about) When the fabric of story rends, and you can see the light from the other side) I felt like the ring is destroyed, and you get Smeagol back. Or something. Against all odds, what shouldn't be save-able is saved, because there is a God.                                                                                   /(


Afterthoughts, Josh commented, he feels so--pure. Here he is holding a naked (h-vulnerable) woman he is attracted to, and He looks at her face, and then out up toward the light. God knows we need pure heroes. Who its about personhood, and God. Not selves and own desires, reducing people to hormone highs, but God, carrying people into the light. Josh also seemed to be moved at the subtle part where kerrigan finally rests. It says so much. Finally, trust, rest, there is a God, rest. Josh said, its like he goes from being carrot-y to vimes-y to carrot-y again. He regains faith.)                                        

Faramir's Vambrances / Link's Bracers

So I got a thin black leather coat from the thrift store. And I still have the thick leather black coat I got from the church sale. So that means, time to make Faramir (Boromir's and Aragorn's) Vambrances (of Gondor)  In this image, you can see it is constructed of 2 parts. There is a bracer of quilted leather, spiral laced. Over it is the beautiful diamond shaped tooled vambrance, that buckles on.                                                                                                                  

http://www.alleycatscratch.com/lotr/Things/GonVambrace.htm

                                                                                                                                               I am also thinking about Link's bracers. They seem to be a simple charcoal grey leather worn over brown leather gloves (with the finger tips cut away). Only on the left hand does he wear a vambrance thing (over bracer, whatever you call it) that buckles on over it, like Faramir's Gondor leather tooled ones. I like how Link's bracer/under bracer comes down over his wrist. I am still unsure of how it closes, there appears to be some sort of set of straps. I think I will make an underbracer of the thing black leather (not quilted) but something between Link's underbracer and Faramir's. Its shape will be more like Faramir's at the elbow, and like Link's at the wrist. It will not be quilted, but it will be spiral laced for closure. Then I will work on the Gondor over-bracers/vambrances, and also make a Link brown overbracer too. That way Josh can wear the underbracers with either outfit, and just wear the corresponding over bracer(s) to change the look of it.

Pictures

Re-Dyeing the Wool, and StarCraft 2

         So I re-dyed the wool last night, as my husband played to the end of StarCraft 2: Wings of Liberty. I tried to follow what I did last time, except I was lazy and skipped the measuring the water temp with the meat thermometer. Then I made a wild guess as to how much Sunshine Orange Rit dye I should use to transform my
              bluish 'Dark Green' --->'Olive Green' ,
             purplish 'Dark Brown'---> warm Dark Brown.
I thought a ration of 2 parts (green, or dark brown) to 1 part (sunshine orange), should do it. So fabric that had been dyed with, 4 oz.(1/2 cup) RIT dark green, I added to 2 oz. (1/4 cup) RIT sunshine orange. And fabric dyed with 1/2 cup RIT dark brown, I added 1/4 cup RIT sunshine orange.
       Then in the pivotal 5 minutes, instead of stirring, I ran to watch a Star Craft cut scene/cinematic.
It was very tense, I wanted to know if Mengsk was going to turn on Raynor after depositing him in Hell/Char. And it was incredibly gripping, Raynor clinging to the hope that she could be exorcised, that there was something left of her, that he fight his way into the mouth of hell to find if there was some soul left.  Anyways. I didn't stir the wool.
      When I came back, the damage was done. The green came out very blotchy indeed, spots of greenish olive drab, and spots of orangey olive drab. More-ever my ratios were way off, I used WAYYY too much orange. I got olive drab instead of olive green. And I got something akin to burnt orange, instead of a warm brown. Also, I learned that when redying wool, as soon as you put it in hot water again, the old color starts to bleed out. Of course. The fibers are opening again. So I lost a lot of green and brown respectively.

This is before....

After, too much orange....

So I learned. Things to do next time

1. Don't be sloppy. Measure your water's temperature
2. STIR STIR STIR (even if it means doing dye batches one after another.)
3. NOT SO MUCH ORANGE.  Next time do 4 Dark Green: 1 Sunshine Orange to get olive green. Or maybe 6 Dark Green: 1 Sunshine Orange. (So 1/2 cup Dark Green, to 1-2 T. sunshine orange). And for the Dark Brown, just add a tad of orange. So 1/2 cup Dark Brown, to 1 T. Sunshine Orange.)
4. Mix all dyes the first time, so there is only one dying process. Otherwise your other colors bleed out into the dye water, and there's no telling what the real ratio absorbed was. And its harder to get the 2 tone blotches that way.
5. Don't try to watch Star Craft 2 while dyeing.

So thats what I learned. I think I will call it a day for my poor wool (its been dyed enough), and make the medieval dress out of it anyway. It isn't quite going to be the dressy medieval garment I had envisioned, prob look much more worn and ranger-y. (Josh brightly pointed out I could think of the blotches as Camo...) And the orangey cotehardie....Sigh. At least Burnt Orange looks good on me. I don't know what 'trim' to pair it with now. The gold looking stuff will look like a mustard 70's couch now. Thinking....

Oh yes, and Star Craft 2 was so intensely symbolic and felt...real. Better then a dress anyways.

Family Walk in Pictures

We took a family walk. The sparrows have moved back into the sparrow bush. I wore my cloak out in public and while some people probably thought I was weird, but they were still friendly. Which is good, as I intend to start wearing the clothes I really like in public. Anyway, I think my cloak was much more normal looking then the mustard skinny jeans I witnessed :)

Who really writes this blog.....

Isaiah. reading GO DOG GO

The Sparrow Bush, there were at least a couple dozen in there....

Dresses for Sisters

These are bad pictures, because 1. My Husband Hates Taking Pictures and 2. These dresses aren't meant for me, but for my sisters, and they need ironing... Here they are.

Here is a close up of the lacing...

Leah's Red Regency Dress, More Pictures